


The Sound of Waves

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Boats and Ships, F/M, Jewish Carol Preston, Jewish Character, Jewish Lucy Preston, Languages, Lucy Whump, Lyatt-Friendly, Season/Series 01-02 Hiatus, World War II, Wyatt-Friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 04:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18865405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: After the team breaks Lucy out of Rittenhouse's chains, she's not exactly as she was before.But before they have time to tackle that hurdle, the bunker alarms start blaring, and the team finds themselves in Germany, 1939.





	The Sound of Waves

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: Bound character, issues with eating

**_Prologue_ **

_May 13th, 1939 - Hamburg, Deutsches Reich_

 

A large gathering of people is standing on the docks, waiting to board the MS St Louis. The nearly 575-foot-long ocean liner looks impressive compared to the smaller ships surrounding it, and multiple onlookers are admiring the grandeur of the cruise ship.

In the masses, a family of three holds hands to stay together, a father keeping his wife and daughter close as they get closer to the gangway.

“ _Name_ ?” a man checking tickets asks, and the father replies: “ _Roth, Gavriel. Meine Frau Lior, und meine Tochter Gisa.”_ As he hands the man their tickets, he slips him 20 ℛℳ.

“ _Ach ja, hier_ ,” the man comments, pointing at an empty line in the ledger. “ _Gute Reise, Herr Roth_.”

 

“We made it,” Gisa whispers in English, hovering close to Herr Roth as he escorts her and Lior further onto the ship.

 

**_Act I: Zum Leiden bin ich auserkoren_ **

_Present Day, 2019 - Location Redacted_

 

“How's the Princess doing today?” Emma Whitmore asks casually as Carol Preston follows her down a hallway. The entire building is quiet. Most employees have long gone home, and the only ones left are the dedicated, the overpaid, and the condemned.

“Don't call her that,” Carol replies.

“I'm sorry, would you prefer _Prisoner_ or _Hostage_ instead?”

“Emma, I am warning you…” the blonde threatens. Emma rolls her eyes and halts in front of the elevator.

“Never mind. If you need me, I'll be in my office.”

 

Carol continues down the hall, entering an unmarked door that reveals a staircase leading into the basement. Nodding at the young man manning the guard station, she scans her badge at the metal door. A green light flashes, and Carol pushes against the steel, accessing the narrow corridor behind it. She knows this maze like her back pocket, and quickly walks towards yet another stairwell leading further down. Here, the lights are dimmed and the air is thick with dust. The four men stationed in the centre are concentrated on a game of Klabrias.

“Has she spoken?” Carol asks as she approaches them. One nudges the other, who drops his cards, revealing two Kings of Hearts. A cheater. How amusing.

“No, ma'am,” the cheater announces as he gathers his hand once more.

“Eaten?”

“No, ma'am.” Carol nods. Grabbing the keys from the middle of the nearby desk, she enters a code on the number pad and turns the lock. The second door requires her badge to unlock, and it opens to reveal a small room. It could have been a hotel room if it weren't for the absence of windows and the woman shackled to the bed. A length of nylon-covered chain allows her to move around the room if she wishes to do so, but she sits on the bed, still as a statue. Her dinner remains untouched, a weak testimony of her resistance.

“Oh Lucy…” Carol whispers, sitting down next to her and pulling her silent daughter into her lap. “I know these past few months have been tough. It's all for your own good, I promise. But if you don't eat...” She sighs and gently caresses Lucy's face. “I'll have to get someone from the medical team.” Lucy doesn't react. “Is that really what you want?”

Lucy cries soundless tears, her body too weak to stop it from happening.

Carol starts singing: “ _Lyalkele, lyalkele, ay-lu-lu, dayn mame vigt dikh itster tsu..._ ”

 

Carol returns the following day.

And the next.

And the one after that.

 

Until she doesn't.

“Strange,” one of the guards stationed outside Lucy's cell comments as another reveals the flop. “Normally she'd be here by now.”

“Maybe she finally found a hobby.” The men laugh.

A tick of pure silence.

Then all hell breaks loose. A smoke grenade lands a few feet away from the guards, exploding with a muted blow. The entire corridor fills with a cloud of thick white smoke. Yelling, so much yelling, both male and female voices yelling orders and obscenities. Rough shoves work the guards against the floor while the sprinkler system kicks in.

“We need a code, damn it!” one of the attackers yells.

“Try her birthday,” another suggests. The number pad flashes red.

“How about Amy?” an accented voice asks. A green flash.

“Bingo!” Slender hands remove the guards’ badges and hold them up to the second lock until it clicks and the door gives way.

“Oh Lucy,” the female voice calls out much quieter than before. Nylon tears and metal gives way. “Can you walk?” There's no reply. “I'll carry you, then.” Two of the attackers approach the cell, ready to take Lucy from the woman, but she barks: “Back off, both of you!” and they retreat like scolded puppies. “Handle the guards and check on the downloads upstairs,” she continues in a gentler voice, and the men drape soft damp cotton onto the guards’ faces.

“Smells like hospitals,” one manages to croak before they all lose consciousness.

 

When they awaken, everyone, both friend and fiend, is gone.

 

In a bunker hidden beneath gentle sloping hills, Lucy sits on a stretcher surrounded by two women. Jiya carefully washes her skin with the gentlest touches while Denise examines her face.

“Do you know what they gave you?” Denise asks, tracing the thin purple-marked transparent tube that runs from her nose to her ear, and down her chest. Lucy shakes her head. Denise hums in acknowledgement and continues: “Do you want it taken out?” When Lucy retreats backwards, she adds: “It might be a little uncomfortable, but it won't hurt. I promise.” As Jiya reaches to hold her hand, Lucy nods. Together they watch Denise grab a small basin and pull on some vinyl gloves.

“I need you to relax as much as you can, take a deep breath, and exhale slowly, okay?” As Lucy does as she's told, Denise smoothly pulls the NG tube out.

Lucy vomits.

Jiya holds her close.

 

Just outside of the small room, four men are in an unspoken agreement to remain there until told otherwise. Rufus is sitting on the floor, leaning against Mason who is flipping through the pages of a travel magazine without actually reading it while Wyatt attempts to clumsily bandage a wound on his own right arm. Kneeling down from his position by the door, Flynn wordlessly takes the gauze from him and wraps it around the angry flesh, securing it with a piece of medical tape. Wyatt nods his head at him, and he nods back. This is not the time for arguing or egos.

When Jiya steps out of the room and into the corridor they all scramble to their feet, Mason helping Wyatt up.

“How is she?” Rufus dares ask after what feels like a century of silence. The young woman considers his question for a moment.

“Battered, but not broken,” she decides.

“And you?” Mason inquires. Jiya shrugs.

The four pull her into their midst while she cries.

 

Denise brings home-cooked samosas that evening - vegetarian and prepared by Michelle, she reassures them all - and the gentle smells of chaat masala manage to draw everyone into the living area, even Lucy. Aided by Mason, who offers her his forearm to grasp onto the moment he hears the door opening, she makes her way to the sofa. Denise hands out plates, and they all pile onto the couches. Jiya turns on _Dancing in the Rain_. No-one objects.

 

Thankfully, the destruction of Rittenhouse Headquarters means that Emma and Carol aren't jumping, giving them all time to recuperate. And goodness, do they need it. Denise makes them all get a fresh batch of vaccinations after being exposed to Pete-knows-what in the dungeons of Rittenhouse. A doctor, called in by Denise, comes in to see Lucy, and prescribes co-amoxiclav and oxazepam. She refuses to take the latter. His assistant takes her blood and tests her urine.

“What are you testing for?” Denise asks, sitting with Lucy while they wait.

“Oh the standard,” comes the reply from the assistant, who examines the thin strip of paper. Coloured lines have appeared, and he holds it next to a laminated sheet with different patterns on it. “Infections, glucose, red blood cells, pregnancy. The usual.” At the mention of the final marker, Lucy tenses up.

“Could you...be pregnant?” Denise asks quietly. The historian shakes her head. “Are you absolutely certain? Were you conscious the entire time?” Lucy shakes her head again, hiding her face against Denise’s neck, who holds her tightly.

“Oh Lucy,” she whispers softly.

“Well, you’re not,” the assistant decides. “It’s negative.” Both women breathe a sigh of relief.

“Do we need to check your throat?” the doctor asks. “Since you’re not speaking?” Lucy’s hands grab onto Denise’s sweater and grip tightly, while she shakes her head yet again.

“That won’t be necessary,” the agent replies. “Thank you, though, Doctor.”

 

In the middle of the night, five people meet up in the middle of the bunker.

“So, what do we do?” Rufus asks. “She can’t stay silent forever, can she?”

“It’s a possibility,” Mason answers.

“But if and when she decides to speak is up to her,” Flynn adds. He sighs deeply. “Psychological trauma messes with your brain. It tells you what you should and shouldn’t do, without true logic behind it.” He glances at Wyatt. The man may pretend like there’s nothing wrong, but he knows he’s not the only one who’s not a fan of fireworks and the likes. The soldier offers him the slightest nod.

“So...we’ll do what we always did. But we involve her in it,” Jiya suggests, reaching out to hold Rufus’ hand. “We’ll watch TV with her. Wyatt, maybe you could include her on your walks?” Wyatt nods. “And Mason?”

“I’ll find something,” the Brit assures her.

“I could...read to her?” Flynn tries. To his surprise, it’s Wyatt who nods first.

“I think she’d like that,” the younger man concurs.

“Then it’s a plan.” Jiya pulls them all into a group hug.

 

A week later, Mason is twirling a smiling Lucy and Jiya through the bunker as he teaches them how to do the Viennese waltz, nearly slamming them both into a pillar as Flynn moves past them with a stack of history books. Denise grabs the top one from the pile and starts flipping through it, looking for potential targets and sleeper agents, while Rufus brings coffee to the table.

The booming sound of the alarms going off silences the record player within an instant, and everyone freezes. Jiya is the first to sprint towards the computers and starts tracking the _Mothership_.

“Hamburg, Germany, May 12th 1939!” she announces after a tense ten seconds. Heads turn to Lucy, but she shakes her head in confusion. She's not an expert on interbellum Continental Europe.

“Could this be it?” Denise suddenly asks, pointing at a page of the book in front of her. Pictured is the MS St. Louis, and the heading reads: ‘The Voyage of the Damned’.

“I learnt about that in high school,” Flynn realises. “The St. Louis set sail from Hamburg to Cuba. The ship was carrying more than nine hundred passengers, most of them Jewish refugees seeking asylum from Nazi persecution.”

“Any important passengers?” Rufus asks. Denise quickly scans the article.

“Billy Joel's great-uncle Leon Joel, and an Arno Motul…” She struggles to read the smudged text.

“Motulsky? Arno Motulsky?” Mason exclaims. “He created the field of medical genetics and defined it. He's the father of pharmacogenetics. His work saved millions of lives, effectively. I had the pleasure of meeting him in Washington once. He has mentored Nobel Prize winners, I…” he continues. “He passed away in 2018.”

“Sounds like just the type of guy for Rittenhouse to target, then,” Wyatt adds. “The grumpy old men target Jews, what a surprise.”

“Wyatt, Flynn, Jiya,” Denise decides. “You go.” Lucy's hand comes to rest upon hers. “Are you sure?” Denise asks, taking the offered hand. Lucy nods.

“Alright. You four, then.” As Rufus begins to object, Denise retorts: “You don't really expect me to send a man of colour into Nazi Germany to go blend in on a ship filled with Jewish people, do you?”

As the _Lifeboat_ disappears, Mason quietly comments: “No. Instead, you send the blatantly-American man, the two who could easily be mistaken for a Romani father and daughter, and the actual Jewish woman.”

 

**_Act II: In diesen heil’gen Hallen_ **

_May 12th, 1939 - just outside of Hamburg, Deutsches Reich_

 

A gust of wind travels across the ground as the _Lifeboat_ lands on German soil, and as the passengers exit the machine, they observe their surroundings.

“It’s so...normal,” Jiya comments, while the group walks towards a nearby farmhouse. Denise somehow managed to produce the outfit selection from back when they met Al Capone, which means they still stand out, but not as much as they would have in their contemporary outfits.

“The War hasn’t started yet,” Flynn explains. “Hitler’s already the leader of Germany, and global tension is rising, but the actual War won’t start until September 1st, when Germany invades Poland at the Battle of Westerplatte. The UK will then give an ultimatum to Germany, and on 3 September, France, the United Kingdom, Australia and New Zealand declare war on Germany. South Africa and Canada will join in a few days later. In November the Soviet Union is going to get involved, along with Finland, and Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania and parts of Romania will follow in 1940. Then the chaos starts in Western Europe.” He looks at Lucy for confirmation, who nods.

“You know a lot about this war,” Wyatt remarks.

“The Axis invasion of Yugoslavia basically created the Independent State of Croatia, which was nothing but a fascist puppet state of Germany and Italy,” Flynn explains, pausing to recall the facts. “In response, the Federal State of Croatia was created, which became a founding member of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. Croatia didn’t declare independence until 1991, which caused a four-year war. I lied about my age to be able to enlist and fought in that war as a teenager. This is part of my own history.” He scratches the back of his head before quietly adding: “Let’s continue. We need to find more fitting clothing, and we need to get into the city.”

 

Hamburg is a city like any other, bustling with activity as the local population begins migrating towards their places of employment. Red flags bearing black swastikas on white backgrounds fly from major buildings. In twenty-first century eyes, they’re an eyesore, but for the locals...they’re just the national flag. The team walks through the city, and as they cross through an alleyway to cut through to the harbour, Jiya asks: “So what’s the plan?”

“We try to find Motulsky before they do.”

“And how do we plan on doing that?” she retorts, stopping the group to confront the men. “I doubt we can just go around asking for him. He’s a teenager right now, isn’t he?” Lucy holds out both hands, then five fingers. “So he’s a fifteen-year-old Jewish kid living in Nazi Germany, and you expect him to listen to four American adults?” Flynn shrugs.

“We may actually have to get onto the boat,” Wyatt suggests. “We don’t know where the sleeper is, or when he will strike.” Jiya looks him up and down.

“No offence, Captain America, but you don’t exactly pass as a German Jew.” Wyatt opens his mouth to reply, then closes it again.

“And we do?” Flynn asks.

“You speak German; I speak conversational German. You can pretend Lucy’s your American wife and I’m your daughter. Would explain the accent. Your Slavic looks and my Lebanese genes mean we could both say we’re Ashkenazi. Just try to look like your Catholic guilt isn’t weighing you down too much.” She looks extremely satisfied with herself as she offers her plan.

“What about me?” Wyatt asks. “And the _Lifeboat_? It’ll be stuck in Hamburg while you guys go to Cuba.”

“I’ll pre-program the ship to take you to Havana on the date of our arrival. You’ll only have to press a button.”

“Lucy?” Flynn asks, cornering the older woman. “Are you okay with this?” Lucy shrugs, nodding. “And with pretending to be Jewish?” The historian shoots him a confused look.

“She _is_ Jewish, genius,” Jiya comments. Both Flynn and Wyatt stutter: “What?” The engineer slaps both of their biceps. “Have you never connected the dots?” Rolling her eyes, she suggests: “We should get going. We’re going to need boat tickets.”

 

Getting the tickets is harder than expected. When Flynn approaches the sales clerk of the _Hamburg-Amerikanische Packetfahrt-Actien-Gesellschaft_ , the young man informs them that the tickets will cost them 400 ℛℳ per person, or 160 dollars, if he would prefer to pay in American currency. Some quick mental math tells them that they’ll need more money than a few stolen wallets to be able to cough that up.

“I’m pretty sure that’s more than a monthly wage,” Flynn states. “And I have no idea on how to get that much money before tomorrow.”

Jiya hums softly.

“What?” Wyatt asks, turning to face her.

“We found some gold while you guys were on a mission stored in the depths of the bunker a while ago. There are multiple bars stored in the _Lifeboat_ , just in case. Do pawn shops exist here?”

“You’re kidding,” Flynn replies. Jiya shakes her head.

“We just need to figure out how much we need.”

 

One visit to a _Pfandhaus_ later, and with Flynn threatening just a tiny bit of bodily harm to the gentleman manning the desk, they are informed that the local pawnbroker will give them 2.50 ℛℳ per gramme of gold.

“Do we have over 480 grammes?” Wyatt asks. “That’s a lot of gold.”

“One standard gold bar is 400 troy-ounces,” Flynn replies. “Nearly twelve and a half kilos.”

 

“You’re not seriously planning on walking around with over thirty-one thousand Reichsmark, are you? That’s like two hundred thousand dollars today. Are you asking to get robbed?” Jiya asks as they leave the pawn shop. When Lucy shoots her a confused look, she adds: “Engineer. Quick maths comes with the job.”

“We’ll need it. The _St Louis_ won’t arrive in Havana until May 27, and if we’re in bad luck, we’ll have to remain on the ship until it returns to Europe on June 17. We’re going to need clothing, toiletries, and probably something to entertain ourselves with.” Flynn’s statement causes a silence to fall over the rest of the team, suddenly realising the predicament they’ve gotten themselves into. This is not a two-day mission; this is half a season.

“Well...let’s do that then,” Jiya decides, grabbing a bunch of banknotes from Flynn and dragging Lucy away by her arm. When Flynn objects, she retorts: “It’s 1939. Do you really think two men, of whom one isn’t related to them, would go shopping with two girls? We’ll see you at the _Hamburger Hof_ hotel in two hours.” With that, she pockets the cash and leaves Flynn and Wyatt standing in front of the pawn shop. Wyatt holds out his hand, expecting to be handed a few dozen ℛℳ as well, but Flynn laughs and shakes his head.

“I’ve seen your historical fashion sense, Logan,” he comments. “You’re not going shopping alone.”

 

As Flynn drags Wyatt into the _Alsterhaus_ , currently one of the largest department stores of Hamburg, Jiya and Lucy enter a _Karstadt_ in the _Mönckebergstraße_. A young man greets them as they enter, and Jiya nods at him. He shoots the younger woman a funny look and clears his throat, nodding at the sign that very clearly states Jews are not allowed entry.

“ _Ich bin so deutsch und protestantisch wie sie ist_ ,” Jiya comments motioning at Lucy, and he apologises. She rolls her eyes. Letting an attendant guide them towards the women’s section, both women quickly select a handful of necessary items.

Two streets down, the men are going through a less peaceful process. Every time Wyatt suggests something to Flynn, he shakes his head in exasperation.

“But I _like_ this one!” the younger man protests as Flynn makes him return a dress shirt.

“Mustard is not your colour,” Flynn replies. “Try blue, or possibly peach.”

“Says the man who basically lives in black and grey.”

“Humour me, Logan?”

 

Armed with bags of day clothing, undergarments, toiletries, some books and other pastimes, the four meet up in front of the hotel Jiya mentioned, the men arriving nearly half an hour after the women. Smirking at them, the engineer asks: “Find everything okay?”

“I’m utterly convinced this one is colourblind, but yes,” Flynn replies. “Now let’s get some rooms. The ship leaves in the late morning, and we still need to get Wyatt back to the _Lifeboat_ tomorrow.

They get two rooms, and Jiya claims ownership to one with Lucy, leaving the other one for the men.

“But…” both of them start, but she shakes her head.

“I’m not sharing with either of you. Nice try. Now be good boys, hands above the covers, and we’ll see you at dinner.” With that, she leaves them.

 

“Hey, Lucy?” Jiya asks the other woman as they lay in the double bed, staring at the ceiling. Lucy turns onto her side to face her and touches her hand.

“Are you ever going to speak again?” the engineer continues, adding: “Not that I...you don’t have to, but...well, I just miss hearing your voice.” Opening her mouth, Lucy struggles, but no sound comes out. Sighing, she shrugs, and opens her arms.

“Oh Lucy.” Jiya moves closer, and they hold each other until they fall asleep.

 

In the morning, Wyatt steals a car, and they head over to the _Lifeboat_ . Jiya programs it for May 27, the day the _St Louis_ drops anchor at the Havana harbour. After explaining to Wyatt how to get there, she programs a second set of coordinates.

“What are you…” Flynn asks.

“To get him home. Just in case.” Once again, a silence falls over the four.

“After the ship gets to Havana, it’ll stay there for five days. Twenty-eight people will be allowed to disembark. After that it will circle off the coast of Florida, hoping to get to the US or Nova Scotia, but it is denied access. If everything truly goes to hell, we will get to the Port of Antwerp on June 17. One-third of the passengers will go to the UK, whereas the others will be divided between Belgium, France and the Netherlands. Motulsky will end up in Antwerp.” Flynn dumps the information on Wyatt in a quick ramble, but he needs him to know this. Wyatt nods.

“Be careful,” he tells Jiya as she hugs him. “You too, Luce.” He holds the historian close, and he can feel her tremble in his arms. Glancing at Flynn, he shoots him a knowing look. Flynn nods. He’ll keep them safe.

“Don’t do anything I’d do, Logan,” Flynn comments quietly. Wyatt laughs. Stepping into the _Lifeboat_ , he waves at the other three.

“Bon voyage, and don’t get seasick.” He closes the hatch. The engines of the vessel power up, and within seconds, he’s gone.

“Better get back to the city,” Flynn suggests. “We can’t get stuck here.”

 

A large gathering of people is standing on the docks, waiting to board the MS St Louis. The nearly 575-foot-long ocean liner looks impressive compared to the smaller ships surrounding it, and multiple onlookers are admiring the grandeur of the cruise ship.

In the masses, the group of three holds hands to stay together, Flynn keeping Lucy and Jiya close as they get closer to the gangway.

“ _Name_ ?” a man checking tickets asks, and Flynn replies: “ _Roth, Gavriel. Meine Frau Lior, und meine Tochter Gisa.”_ As he hands the man their tickets, he slips him 20 ℛℳ.

“ _Ach ja, hier_ ,” the man comments, pointing at an empty line in the ledger. “ _Gute Reise, Herr Roth_.”

 

“We made it,” Jiya whispers in English, hovering close to Flynn as he escorts her and Lucy further onto the ship.

 

**_Act III: Vergnügt und froh ins bess’re Land_ **

_May 13th, 1939 - The North Sea_

The _St Louis_ is luxurious, even for modern standards. The expensive ticket price means the team have managed to secure a first-class cabin, where they leave their belongings after which Flynn locks the door. The deck is swarming with people, speaking in German as well as Yiddish and Hebrew. With his grasp of German, Flynn is able to make out the main idea of what those speaking Yiddish are saying, but the Hebrew might as well be Mandarin to him -- except that he knows more Mandarin than Hebrew.

“ _Beautiful, isn’t it?_ ” an older man dressed in an impeccably-pressed suit asks him in German. Smiling, Flynn nods. The banks of the Elbe surround them, and the view truly is gorgeous, until they reach Cuxhaven. Here, the ship traverses the estuary into the North Sea, and before they know it, all that surrounds them is water, as far as the eye can see.

“You okay?” he whispers to Lucy. Technically they’re not in a small space, but the ship, despite its size, might as well be tiny when compared to the vastness of the sea. He knows the route they will take: they’ll head south, remaining parallel to the coasts of the Netherlands and Belgium, slip through the English Channel, and then they’ll head straight across the Atlantic. It’s going to be one heck of a bumpy ride. Next to him, Lucy nods. She’s holding Jiya’s hand, who doesn’t look too happy to be on the nautic equivalent of Mr Bones’ Wild Ride.

“ _Find a spot on the horizon to look at_ ,” a woman behind them tells her. “ _Anything. It’ll help your body realise that you’re upright._ ”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Jiya replies, and she does as she’s told, breathing in deeply.

“You prefer the _Lifeboat_ , huh?” Flynn asks quietly. The engineer laughs, nodding.

“Americans?” Flynn spins around to face the voice behind them. A young woman smiles at him, reaching out to shake his hand. “Else Stein. This is my son, Werner, and my husband Kurt. I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“Gavriel Roth, my wife Lior and my daughter Gisa,” Flynn replies as he accepts the handshake. “Lior is American, and Gisa speaks both German and English.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Else replies. Her accent is thick, but pleasant. Werner can’t be much older than three years old, squealing happily in his mother’s arms as she bounces him up and down. “I need to get the little one to bed, but perhaps we’ll see each other at dinner?” The team nods, and Else walks away, Kurt following after her.

“A lot of these people are going to die, aren’t they?” Jiya whispers. Lucy sighs and nods.

“More than half,” Flynn responds. “Only the ones who end up in the UK all survive. Most of the ones who get refuge in Continental Europe get...sent away.”

 

The day passes quickly, as the excitement of being at sea fades into a slight sense of boredom. Waves get repetitive, and this is just the first day of fourteen before they reach Havana. As night falls, the three time travellers reach their cabin.

“You haven’t found the Motulsky family either, I presume?” Flynn asks Lucy and Jiya while he turns his back to them in an attempt to offer them the semblance of privacy while they change out of their day clothing. He does the same, undoing the top buttons of his dress shirt before pulling it over his head. Thankfully even back in the 30’s the Germans were a moderately tall people, so he doesn’t look _too_ ridiculous. The pants could have done with another inch of length, but after having to deal with that awful prison uniform, he’ll take it.

“No,” Jiya replies. “You said he should be here with his mother and younger siblings, but there are so many people here…”

“We’ll find him,” Flynn decides. “We’ll just have to keep looking, and hope we get to him before the Rittenhouse sleeper does.”

“How do you want to tackle the bed situation? You can turn around.” As he spins, he notices Lucy is taking Jiya’s hair out of her updo, expertly removing pin after pin from thick tresses.

“The bed situation?”

“Two beds, three people.”

“But I bought three tickets!” he exclaims. “How…”

“You also said you two were married,” Jiya replies. “But...Lucy and I can share, and then you can have the other bed?” She ducks her head to face Lucy, who lets out a soft scowl as a pin gets twisted with the motion. “If that’s alright?” The historian nods. “Perfect. Problem solved.”

 

The following days, they spread out across the ship. Despite the number of passengers, they quickly become known as _The Americans_ , with thanks to Else - who’s been on board before, she tells them - showing them around. Flynn gets pulled into a group of businessmen while Jiya ends up among the teenagers, much to Flynn’s amusement.

“They don’t seriously think I’m seventeen, do they?” she asks on day four. He shrugs.

“Just look at it as a compliment. You’ve got a youthful nature.” Jiya shoves his arm before joining the kids in a game of hide-and-seek, calling out: “ _Lore! Wait up!_ ”

 

Lucy joins a small gathering of women, of whom the participants all remain in one of the ship’s sitting rooms. They sit quietly in a small circle, and so far none of them has tried to make her speak.

“ _Nit azoy fil shpanung. Zey vaoyl_ ,” Selma, one of the older women of the group tells her as she teaches her to knit. Lucy nods, and loosens her grip on the thread.

“ _You don’t speak German, but you do know Yiddish_ ?” the woman asks her. Lucy smiles, and nods again. “ _Vunderlekh!_ ” Lucy can’t help but chuckle at Selma’s amused expression. Another woman approaches the circle, and asks something in German that Lucy can’t follow. Selma nods, and she sits down. As they introduce themselves, Else speaks for her, for which she’s grateful. Lucy can’t make out anything they’re saying, except for one word.

 _“Motulsky_.”

She tries not to look too ecstatic-as-well-as-extremely-worried as Arno Motulsky’s mother sits down next to her and joins them in knitting, but she has a feeling she looks like a kitten staring at a bowl of milk.

“ _Do you know Ms Motulsky_ ?” Selma asks her. Lucy shakes her head. “ _Lior only understands Yiddish. No German_ ,” the older woman clarifies for the new addition.

“ _What about Hebrew?_ ” Ms Motulsky asks her. Smiling excitedly, Lucy nods. “ _You should meet my son, then. He’d love to practice his Hebrew, I’m sure. Would you join us at dinner?_ ” Lucy nods again. Finding the Motulsky family, check.

 

At dinnertime, Lucy is nearly bursting out of her skin with anticipation. Taking hold of Flynn's arm, she guides both him and Jiya over to the far end of the dining room, where Ms Motulsky is already waving at her.

“Gavriel Roth,” Flynn announces, “ _and my daughter Gisa_.”

“ _It's wonderful to meet you, Mister Roth,”_ the woman replies after introducing herself. “ _I asked your lovely wife to join me and my children for dinner._ ” She continues in Yiddish: “ _Lior, this is Arno, my eldest. Arno, please introduce yourself._ ”

“ _Did you just say ‘Motulsky’?”_ Flynn asks in German again, nearly choking on the words.

“ _Yes. Do you know my husband, perhaps? We're going to be reunited with him in Havana._ ” When Flynn doesn't immediately reply, Jiya fills in: “ _We used to live next door to a Motulsky family in Berlin_.” Ms Motulsky nods in understanding while Arno eyes the three Americans suspiciously. He's nearly sixteen, a teenager with lanky limbs and large glasses. The man of the family, until they are all reunited with his father. That won't be for at least another decade, though, but Flynn's not about to disclose that fact. The boy mumbles something in Hebrew, an accusing tone to his voice, and Lucy looks taken aback before she nods in what looks like an acknowledgement of whatever Arno just told her.

“Arno!” his mother calls out. “ _Be polite_!”

“ _They are strange though, mother, he's right_ ,” the youngest sibling tells her. If only they knew how strange exactly… Jiya bursts out laughing, causing a stir in the otherwise fairly calm dining room. She quiets down quickly, stifling the rest of her entertainment behind a napkin.

 

“So. The Motulskys are lovely,” Jiya states as they leave the dining room. “But we still don’t know who’s targeting them. So now what?”

“We keep our ears and eyes open,” Flynn replies. “And I’ll try to convince Schröder that there’s a spy on board.” Gustav Schröder is the 53-year-old captain of the _St Louis,_ a German man who spent World War I as an enemy alien in Calcutta, India, and is fluent in seven languages. “I spoke with him today, and he seems to like me.”

“You sure he wasn’t just being polite? You’re not exactly the friend-making type.”

“A dagger to my heart,” Flynn states, grinning as he lets himself theatrically fall against a nearby wall. Lucy shakes her head.

 

Before they know it, days pass by, and the ship drops anchor at the harbour of Havana. The passengers rejoice the moment the Cuban city comes into view. Everyone, except three.

“We haven’t located the sleeper yet,” Jiya states. “But Wyatt is waiting for us.”

“We’re going to have to disembark.” Flynn’s voice is low and quiet, almost whispered. “And leave the Motulskys behind.” Lucy lays a hand on his arm. “Do you have another idea?” She nods her head towards Jiya, then towards the window. Flynn goes silent, before nodding. “You’re right.”

“Would the telepathic duo mind informing me what’s going on?”

“ _You_ have to disembark,” Flynn suggests, looking at Lucy to make sure he’s understanding her correctly. “Meet up with Wyatt, and go to Antwerp, June 17 1939. We’ll stay here.” Lucy nods, grabbing Jiya’s hands and holding them tightly. “We’ll meet you back on the other side of the Atlantic.”

“But how in the world am I going to get off of the ship?” Jiya asks, pulling Lucy against her chest in a hug. “I don’t have a visa.” Sighing, Flynn takes a moment to think. As footsteps walk past their cabin, he replies: “Can you fake a seizure? Like when you have a vision?”

 

“ _Help! Our daughter!_ ” Flynn calls out loudly on the top deck. “ _Please, is there a doctor_?”

“ _What’s going on_?” Else is the first at his side.

“ _She’s collapsed; I don’t know_ ,” he replies, panic on his face. “ _She was fine one moment, and then her eyes rolled back and she fell and...Else, I don’t know, but it’s bad; it’s really bad. She needs help, now._ ”

“ _Herr Roth_ ?” Captain Schröder is standing behind him. “ _Where is Gisa_?”

“ _In our cabin_ ,” Flynn responds. “ _Please, someone has to help her._ ”

“ _I’ll send our medic,_ ” Schröder says, grasping the other man’s shoulder. “ _And I’ll contact the Cuban authorities. They have to be willing to help a sick young girl. They have hearts, too_.”

 

An hour later, Jiya is being escorted off of the _St Louis_ by two Cuban soldiers and multiple paramedics while Flynn and Lucy watch from the upper deck.

“ _It’ll be alright_ , _yeledah_ ,” Selma comments quietly behind them. “ _Gisa is a strong young woman. You’ll see her again soon_ , _and in good health_.”

They can only hope she’s right.

 

**_Act IV: Verstossen, verlassen und zertrümmert_ **

_June 10th 1939 - The Atlantic Ocean_

Now that both President Roosevelt and William Lyon Mackenzie King, of the US and Canada, aided by Cordell Hull and Frederick Blair respectively have denied the passengers of the _St Louis_ sanctuary, Captain Schröder has turned the ship around, heading back towards Europe. The mood on the ship has worsened drastically.

As the rations begin running out, tensions start rising.

 

“Want to explain where Lucy and Flynn are and why you’re in a hospital gown?” Wyatt asks as he’s approached by Jiya in the harbour.

“Shut your mouth, and get me to the _Lifeboat_ , smartass,” she replies, still catching her breath from her quick run from the _Clínica Central Cira García_ to the meeting point. Wyatt laughs, offering her his jacket.

“Let’s go.”

 

“You okay?” The question comes from Flynn, and it’s about the fourteenth time he’s asked her today. Lucy nods. She’s hungry and tired, but she’ll live.

“I know you handed some of your rations to the kids today,” he continues. “And as much as I appreciate the heroics, you do realise that you need to eat to live, don’t you?” He sits down on the bottom bunk next to her. “We’re in this together.” Sighing, she nods and grabs his hand. She still can’t seem to get a single word out of her throat, but she hopes he’ll understand her anyway. He squeezes gently. “I’m going to go find the Motulskys and see what they’re up to. I’ll be back soon. Try to rest.” He squeezes her hand once more before getting up. His dress shirt is wrinkled, but at least it’s not stained. They really need to reach European shores soon, before they truly run out of resources.

Lucy takes a deep breath and lies down on the mattress. It seems to be getting thinner each day, although that could also be the exhaustion getting to her.

 

_Lyalkele, lyalkele, ay-lu-lu…_

 

Lucy’s upright within seconds. Normally, this nightmare lasts longer.

Something must have woken her up.

Grabbing a jacket and pulling it on, she approaches the still-closed cabin door. There’s a muffled scuffling on the other side. Lucy’s hand comes to rest on the handle, her fingers wrapping around it. She pushes the door open just the slightest, but it’s enough to reveal who’s on the other side. A seaman is holding what seems to be a modern-day pistol against the back of another, and is making him walk down the narrow corridor, towards the wheelhouse.

Lucy’s breath catches in her throat.

Motulsky isn’t the target. It’s Captain Schröder.

 

“Where are we going?” Wyatt asks once he and Jiya have reached the _Lifeboat_ and the engineer has changed into her twenty-first-century clothing.

“Antwerp,” she replies, already punching in the spacetime coordinates. “A couple of days from now. Lucy and Flynn will disembark there.” As Wyatt opens his mouth to ask another question, she adds: “And before you ask, Lucy’s fine. Still mute, but fine.”

“And Flynn?” he asks quietly. Jiya turns to face him, raising an eyebrow before returning to the software.

“He’s okay too.” Wyatt nods, relaxing slightly in his seat. It’s so strange to be in the _Lifeboat_ with only two people, to be in the vessel without Lucy.

“Okay.”

“Hold on to your _huevos rancheros_ , we’re jumping in ten seconds.” Before he has the time to comment that that’s most definitely a Mexican dish, and not Cuban, the rings on the _Lifeboat_ have already started spinning, and Wyatt has to hurry to buckle himself into his seat.

As the ship touches down just outside of Antwerp, he states: “You know, you fly nothing like your boyfriend.” Jiya grins.

“I know. I’m better.”

 

Once the two men are out of earshot, Lucy sprints out of the cabin and runs up the stairs to the main deck. In a flurry of panic, she reaches Flynn, who is teaching Arno and some of the other older boys how to play Tablić. He’s dealing the cards as she nearly barrels into him, sending them flying across the table.

“Lu- Lior, what’s going on?” he manages to exclaim. She’s grabbing his jacket and trying to pull him into the direction of the wheelhouse. Nodding her head at Arno, she shakes her head.

“It’s not him,” he manages to deduce. “But who?” Lucy throws her hands up into the air in frustration. “Tell me, Lior, please.” She opens her mouth, but a voice inside of her mind tells her: _Don’t you dare._ A strangled cry leaves her throat. They don’t have time for this. Straightening her posture, she lets go of Flynn’s arm and salutes him.

“Schröder?” he asks. Thank G-d. “Let’s go!”

 

“It’s so strange to think that in a few months the world will be at war,” Wyatt comments, staring at the _Kalmthoutse Heide_ , the Dutch-Belgian heath where Jiya has managed to land the _Lifeboat_.

“It’s already going on,” Jiya adds quietly. “It’s just not official yet.”

 

The corridors seem endless as Flynn and Lucy run down them, barely remembering to breathe in between hurried corners and pushes past other passengers.

“ _Where is the Captain_ ?” Flynn yells at a nearby seaman. When the young man seems unwilling to answer him, he grunts in frustration. “ _He’s in danger_!”

“ _Says who_?” the seaman replies.

“ _Answer them_!” The command comes from Kurt Stein. Else is standing next to him, Werner in her arms.

“ _In his quarters_ ,” comes the answer. “ _But I wasn’t the one to tell you this_!” the seaman warns. Rolling his eyes, Flynn is about to drag Lucy there when Kurt stops him.

“I went through basic training,” he tells Flynn. “Let me assist you.” Flynn eyes him up and down before nodding.

“Stay with Else. We’ve got this.” With a brisk nod, both men continue further, leaving Lucy, Else and Werner behind.

 

Further down the hall, a door opens.

A tick of pure silence.

Then all hell breaks loose.

 

“Do you think it’s weird if I said a prayer for their safe return?” Wyatt asks. They’ve found refuge in the Cathedral of Our Lady, in the middle of Antwerp. “I mean, I’m not Catholic, but it’s worth a shot, right?” Jiya smiles.

“I think that’s a great idea.”

He closes his eyes, and as her hands come to hold his, he prays. For both of them.

 

The unmistakable sound of gunshots rings through the air. Gasps. Screaming.

 

“Amen.”

 

The only sound that’s left is Werner’s hysterical crying.

“ _Lyalkele, lyalkele, ay-lu-lu, dayn mama vigt dikh itster tsu. Mit a lidele shleft zi dikh ayn, zolstu mir a gezunte zayn. Lyalkele, lyalkele, ay-lu-lu, dayn mama vigt dikh itster tsu. In nestl shlofn di feygelekh, farmakh zhe dayne eygelekh…”_

The boy blinks, looking up at the source of the gentle lullaby. Lucy blushes and smiles.

 

**_Act V: Soll die Empfindung Liebe sein?_ **

“ _I don’t know how to thank you_ ,” Captain Schröder tells Flynn. His left arm is in a sling and his face is badly bruised, but he’s alive. Flynn nods his head, silently.

“ _Just...keep doing what you’re doing. You’re a good man, Gustav Schröder_.” Before the captain can protest, Flynn nods again and offers his arm to Lucy. Together, they walk towards the gangway. Else, Kurt and Werner are standing on the quay, waiting to hear where they’ll be sent to.

“Try to get to the UK, Else,” Flynn tells the young woman as they reach the small family, “please, just trust me.” Shooting him a confused look, Else nods.

“Goodbye, Gavriel, Lior,” she tells them, embracing them both. “Take care.”

“Will you be travelling to Gisa?” Kurt asks, shaking Flynn’s hand and kissing Lucy’s cheek. Lucy smiles, and nods. They will indeed be reuniting with Jiya very soon, though not in Havana.

“May He make you like Ephraim and Menasheh,” Lucy whispers, kneeling down to face Werner. The boy squeals in delight.

“ _Be well, Lior_ ,” another voice announces behind them in Yiddish. Selma smiles at the five of them before letting her son escort her to a bus.

“Ready?” Flynn asks the historian. She nods. As ready as she’ll ever be.

 

Under the tall spire of the Cathedral of Our Lady, the team reunites.

It’s time to go home.

 

**_Epilogue_ **

Else Stein-Siegel (Hergershausen, 28 March 1901 – 17 September 1943 - 42 years old), Kurt David Stein (Kitzingen, 5 November 1907 – 26 March 1944 - 36 years old) and Werner Josef Stein (Würzburg, 2 July 1936 – 17 September 1943 - 7 years old) were all murdered in Auschwitz. Lore Dublon (Meinsen, 9 December 1924 -- 31 December 1944 - 20 years old) lost her life in Stutthof, just weeks before the death march. Selma Simon (Mannheim, 1870 -- 18 May 1945) died in Sobibor.

 **_HaShem yikom damam._ ** **_השם יקום דמם_ **

 

**Author's Note:**

> Footnote: To be more precise, 400 ℛℳ or 160 US dollars in 1939 is the equivalent of 2880 US dollars today.
> 
> Footnote 2: The lullaby that Carol sings to Lucy and Lucy later repeats to Werner is Yiddish, and means "Little doll, hush now, your mother is coming for you."
> 
> Footnote 3: The 20 ℛℳ that Flynn uses to bribe the guard is nearly 150 dollars today.
> 
> Footnote 4: The entire Motulsky family survived the war. They ended up in Brussels, where they got separated after the Nazis bombed the city, and Arno was sent to French internment camps at Le Vigeant, St. Cyprien and then the Gurs internment camp in southern France. Days before his 18th birthday, he was able to arrange to leave France in June 1941. From Lisbon, he sailed to the United States, where he arrived in August 1941. He wrote a memoir of his experiences from 1939-1941 and talked about these experiences in a 2.5 hour interview with the USC Shoah Foundation. Two years later, he was overjoyed to learn that his mother, brother and sister were in Switzerland, unharmed. A few years later, the family was reunited in Chicago.


End file.
